he mirrors the darkness in me
thoughts I think and quell
and feelings I stifle, he speaks
all created from a world that has boxed me, us, in
blindly jabbing fire pokers through it
I am a result
an effect that I control
for hope of becoming more
and fear of being seen as less,
proving a nostalgic narrative right
and I sleep in the room with my worst nightmare and image of self
sleep is hard
dreaming I’ll be overtaken by myself
my worst fear
because what I keep inside
he keeps out
and I question
would I sleep soundly around myself?
who would win if I fought myself?
and what is the greater purpose of being locked in a room,
with both sides-the completeness of myself?
I fear his truth threatening to break the dam of the light,
or lies that I may have chosen for myself
and what that could mean
because he has life
his truth and reality may never change again
and I’m going into the dynamic pliable oppressive yet ever-changing presence of society
I’m am forever rendered subject to the influence of change
but as of right now,
I am in a world of myself
and there is no escape when you can view both sides of the mirror
a psychopath may be looking right back at you
looking just like you
seeing you more clearly than the lies you instruct yourself to be seen in
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